In the Shadows
by farfetched4
Summary: Estonia, a recovering alcoholic, runs into some problems staying sober when Finland refuses to acknowledge his own drinking problems.


When he woke up in the morning, he wanted it. The dreams he had haunted him, violent visions of past actions, of being under Russia, and they never seemed to leave him, even during the day. Each day, all day, _every_day, he wished for the slightly blurred reality it gave him. He remembered the comforting burn of the alcohol as it slipped down his throat, making the sun shine brighter, and the snow just melted away, leaving him in his own sleepy utopia where Russia didn't exist, wounds didn't hurt and scars didn't lie under the surface, readily re-opening at the slightest touch. Where blood was not connected to pain or suffering from anyone. Where his dreams were nice for once, and he could forget.

He almost gave in, often. It was hard. Going to the supermarket, each day he would pause slightly in front of the alcohol, glancing over the bottles of bliss lined up there, begging him to take one home, just one, and become unaware. Many times he would almost take the offer, brushing his hand against the chilled glass holding the vodka, or beer, but reality called him back, in the form of a mere flashback.  
_'Eduard, brother, please! Stop it! Promise me that after we break from Russia, you won't pick up alcohol or drink it. We'll do it together! Toris need not know...'_  
And he would shiver away from that frozen liquid, away from the gradual wasting away. He would not betray Raivis, the closest thing he'd ever had to a brother, by such a simple devastating action. True to Raivis' promise, they had stopped, with Toris none the wiser that they'd ever started. Each week they affirmed the strength of that promise made in the depth of the Soviet Union, and so far, he had kept the promise true. But now it was in jeopardy from someone quite different, and quite unexpected.

For Tino was staying around his house. He would have delighted from a sane drinking partner before, he reminded himself as he grimaced at the thought of going back. But now Tino was just a _drinker_, who Berwald needed a rest from. The tall stoic man had asked him to please take Tino, because he won't wake up. Berwald may have had an expressionless face and body language, but Eduard detected a desperation in his deep, broken voice, and if he were completely honest, a desperate attempt not to break down there and then. He'd told himself it couldn't be that bad, and had agreed, and look at the mess. He felt like breaking down with Berwald at the miserable sight of Tino, drunk to hell, nothing like the former cheery character Eduard knew.

Tino was a big problem. Not only was he drunk at all times, but he was extremely hard to sober up. Being so far north meant that methods like throwing him in the sea, or bathing him in cold water had little effect. His love for saunas made the reverse a wasted attempt as well. Even after removing the source, by throwing the alcohol out, Tino merely had brought more spirits when Eduard forgot to lock Tino in the house.

Sighing, Eduard passed the vodkas and wines and beers and put the bottles back that had somehow creeped into the basket, then went to get other food; eventually, he'd have to force Tino to eat something healthy.

Normally, Eduard would have to look for Tino, following the stench of alcohol and trying his best not to give in. It had been at least a week, (he couldn't remember very well, because his time was split between work, sleep, and stopping himself and attempting to stop Tino drinking) and Tino always seemed to end up in a different place. Sometimes he would be lounged over the sofa in the living room, bottles of something cheap clustered around him on the floor, either snoring loudly, or yelling at some sport on the television. He'd found the international channels, polluting the house with a loud, harsh, thick American accent, or occasionally other languages when he was too inebriated to realise that he couldn't understand. Other days, the more sober ones, Tino was found hunched over the toilet, and looked at Eduard with terror in his eyes, scared of an unseen enemy. Those nights were the worst, with no sleep to the Finnish ramblings of his friend as fear overtook the alcohol in his blood. Fear of what, Eduard would never know.

Eduard hated himself as he had to prepare himself to walk into his own house, and ignore the smell. So, as was so often these days, he took a deep breath before opening the door, shielding his heart and mind for whatever he would find.

But today, he was not snoring, or ill, or even fearful. Tino stared at him, from a little way down the hall. A quick glance told him that for once, there was nothing around the Finn, and those eyes were surprisingly sober, piercing and cold. When they focused on him, they lit up, and Eduard's heart sank, knowing that it was not his arrival that excited Tino, but the bags he held. The next question was so predictable as well.

"You went to the store! Did you buy me any alcohol! Great stuff, great stuff, but I ran out! Can you believe it? But did you get any?" Eduard shook his head, fully aware that Tino would be disappointed, or even angry. It pained him to see something so inhuman as the focus of living for one he held so close.

However, instead of leaving him alone to mope, or yelling at him, Tino crawled over to Eduard, and at this distance, it was evident that he was still drunk, like always. Those pitiful violet eyes were bright as they looked up at him, and he shut the door before Tino's state was broadcast to the neighbours. The northern nation grasped his leg, falling short at the first few attempts, but finally getting a solid grip, he enveloped his leg, curling his body around his foot, and stopping Eduard from going anywhere.

"Ehehe, you're stuck now!" Eduard squatted down, uncomfortable with having to look down so much, and died a little inside to sense the alcohol remaining on Tino's breath, and on his lips. He drew his gaze away from them and focused on his eyes, a morose smile on his own lips.

"Why, yes I am."

"What's wrong? Why do you look so sad - _smile_-" Tino relinquished his hold on Eduard's leg and stuck his fingers at the corners of his mouth and pulled, stretching Eduard's face into a misplaced smile on depressed eyes. "Where's Berwald? He said he'd never leave me, don't leave me, he said 'Don' leave m', just like that, but he left he left where has he gone Eduard don't leave don't leave I need you someone anyone-" Tino's hands gripped his arms and begun shaking him frantically, eyes widening in panic. Eduard grabbed his shoulders until he calmed down a little, then began to stroke Tino's hair, greasy from neglect, in an awkward attempt to ease him.

"I haven't left, I'm here, aren't I? Berwald asked me to take you, because he needed a break-" He was cut off as Tino interrupted him.

"What? He hates me, doesn't he? What did I do? Eduard, tell me, what did I do?!" Eduard removed his hand, mostly to stop himself hurting Tino in his sudden anger. Had he been like this in the depths of his alcoholism?

"Tino, you discovered something called _alcohol_, and decided to dump your friends and family for it, drowning in it so much so that Berwald; tall, stoic, _extremely strong_Berwald almost broke at the sight of you, unable to tell up from down. So he asked me to take you here. And in truth, it's breaking my he-" He broke off, his voice cracking as his throat clogged with emotion: envy, sadness, but mostly love. Centuries of hidden feelings broke through the layers of barriers, tears forming unbidden to his eyes, and Tino watched perplexed as he quickly stood up and took advantage of the loose grip, running up the stairs to his room.

When there, he shut the door, and slid down it, trying to compose himself, and push everything back under the surface. Despite his best attempts to adopt the calm state he usually held, he found it impossible and gave up, curling himself against the door. He hid his face in his hands and watched them blur as he began to cry, unable to think of anything.

The mobile phone hummed from receiving a new message, and the laptop's quiet chime went unchecked: Eduard decided that the world would have to wait.

* * *

What felt like hours later, Eduard stared numbly at the darkening shadows in the room, as dusk came and went and night set in, a streetlight casting a shallow, wavering light in the room. He watched car lights dance across the walls, and heard the soft patter of rainfall.  
With reluctance, he slowly rose, knowing that life went on around him. He checked his phone: two messages, one from his boss, the other from Raivis. He opened it, to be met by a short message: _Don't give up! : )_. Eduard smiled slightly: if things got bad enough, he could call Raivis. He felt warmer for the comfort of back-up, and decided to sort out a meal for him and Tino; after all, even if he felt like hiding, he couldn't mope forever.

Taking a few deep breaths, he finally heard the knocking at the door, and the frail call of 'Eesti?' which he realised had been going on for some time.

Opening the door, he was met with the sight of Tino, slightly disheveled but with damp hair, and he found that the stench of alcohol had finally dissipated. However, in his hand was a glass of clear liquid: Eduard watched Tino with the question in his eyes. If the other wasn't drunk, he'd know what that meant. Tino responded.

"It's water. Honest." So he took the glass, and sniffed it hesitantly.

"You're not drunk." He took a deep gulp of blissfully non-alcoholic water, soothing his throat while he waited for Tino to answer.

"Well, there's no alcohol in the house. Not," He threw his hands up as Eduard gave him a disgracing look. "Not that I would drink it," he interjected quickly. "I... I'm sorry? It seemed like... like it was a good escape. From everything. And then, I just... kind of... craved it. I didn't realise what it was doing to Berwald and you! I'll try and stop... Are we still... friends?" Eduard nodded, amused by the childish phrase. Tino hugged him tightly, repeatedly murmuring that he was sorry, and the Baltic nation decided that while he was more sober than the past week, the effect of the alcohol would take a few days to dissipate fully.

Of course it wasn't perfect; how could it be? Life was difficult after an addiction, especially one so deep as theirs, but Eduard felt that maybe Tino, and himself, would get better at coping, and perhaps one day, even forget they'd even been addicted.

* * *

Not one of my favourite fics, but I thought I'd put it here anyway. Kink meme fill, here: 15769. html?thread =42387865 (remove spaces)


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